LOS ANGELES  Shelby Lynne, a critical favorite for
the best-new-artist Grammy, doesn't quite qualify for the honor. Oh, she's the
best of the field, judging from breathless accolades. And the artistry in her
soulful confessions is unmistakable. But new? Not hardly.

I Am Shelby Lynne, released in early 2000, is her
sixth album in 13 years. She's eligible under loosened Grammy rules that recognize
the sometimes-long climb to public emergence. Even by that standard, Lynne,
32, barely twinkles on mainstream radar. I Am has sold 164,000 copies,
paltry against the tallies of new-artist contenders Papa Roach (2.8 million
for Infest), Sisqo (1.4 million for Unleash the Dragon), Jill
Scott (863,000 for Who Is Jill Scott?) and Brad Paisley (657,000 for
Who Needs Pictures). All of the above are major-label debut albums.

Yet pundits, hoping creativity will ace commerce, favor
Lynne to take the prize. She isn't bickering over guidelines that bestow ingenue
status on a seasoned player.

"I wouldn't turn it down," she says.

Though disappointed by I Am's modest sales, Lynne
takes comfort in the glowing reviews and countless placements in top-10 lists.
Has the critical success of I Am ignited sales of her earlier discs?

"I doubt it  it hasn't ignited sales of its own,"
quips this svelte, blue-eyed blonde with a laser gaze. Lounging in jeans and
black cowboy boots, she chain-smokes and sips red wine while surveying Hollywood
from her hotel window. "I'm lucky that my little fan base has followed me and
accepted me. And I've picked up a few new fans, from the biker with the beard
to the yuppie with the accounting degree."

The important achievement, she says, was finally finding
her sound and vision after toiling in Nashville under the restraints of modern
country formulas and producers.

"I made five records and then just quit," she says. "It
was both liberating and scary. I didn't really know what I was doing, so I just
started writing down my feelings.

"A lot of what's lacking in today's music is real feelings.
Maybe it's hard for people to feel. It's easier to lick the icing off the cake,
the sweet good part. I have a problem when that kind of music leaves no room
for anything enlightening or artistic or different. Everything's a little too
light for me. I'm saying let's get down to the nitty-gritty instead of beating
around the bush."

Gutsy and candid, I Am lays bare Lynne's emotional
wounds. There's no line she won't cross in exposing pain or passion.

"This album is all about pain," she says. "Life is not
fun most of the time. A lot of happy things happened in my life, but they don't
necessarily make for good songs. I go with what touches a nerve."

Her independence, defiant nature and bracing candor were
shaped by the loss, struggle and high drama of her youth. Raised in rural Alabama
and weaned on classic soul and raw country, she found her salvation in music
after a family tragedy left her orphaned. At 17, she and younger sister Allison
Moorer, also a singer/songwriter, witnessed their father fatally shoot their
mother and then turn the gun on himself.

"There's not much need to elaborate," Lynne says of the
incident. "Music saved my life. Sometimes, it was all I had."

She's pained by media queries about the murder-suicide
but more troubled by the resulting false impression of her parents.

"My father was an educated man, very artistic and a strong
individual," she says. "He always told us, 'Don't go with the group; be who
you are.' My mother was very intelligent, beautiful, charming, a simple chunk
of life. We're proud of our upbringing."

Grief strengthened the bond between Lynne and Moorer, who
describes the violent scene in a hidden track on her current The Hardest
Part album.

"I thought it was absolutely beautiful," Lynne says. "I
felt proud. Good music requires hard experience, and that's hers. Whatever it
takes to vent your soul is OK. I was completely moved, and I can still cry when
I hear it."

Yet they seldom discuss that horrific memory. "We talk
about what we have now. We're very close. It's very special. We sometimes feel
we have nobody in the world but each other."

Lynne, briefly wed at 18, has no desire for marriage or
children. "I'm too selfish, too impatient, too spur-of-the-moment to be a good
mother," she says. "If I want to go to the Caribbean for three weeks, I can't
imagine taking a diaper bag. And honest to God, I love living alone. I'm definitely
not a woman who needs a man around. Hell, I work with men every day. That's
babies enough. If I get lonely, I'll call my friends."

The salty-tongued, in-your-face troubadour, dubbed "hell's
belle" in Details, relishes liquor and cigarettes but avoids the party
circuit. At her Palm Springs retreat, the perfect day consists of reading Hemingway,
cooking and lying naked by the pool. If the Grammys goose interest in I Am,
she may resume promotional duties. Otherwise, she might return to the studio
with freshly penned tunes.

"I don't make plans or predictions," she says. Nor is she
hamstrung by a dark history. How does she see her future?